Please, Call Me Lovely
by Kermodei
Summary: Kurt accidentally sends Sam a text, and Sam tries to comfort him. Kurt now has to choose who to love, but can anyone really choose? Suck at summaries R&R!
1. Texts Unsent

Please, Call Me Lovely

Ch1 Texts Never Sent

A/N: Okay, so I've been trying to avoid writing this, because of the sheer amount of stories I have unfinished, but I can't continue those without writing this. So I guess I'll try to balance. I hope you all enjoy this!

Kurt's POV

It was late when I arrived home. The house was dark and quiet, for which I was thankful. Dad, Carole, and Finn, I assumed, were all asleep in their respective rooms. I was glad that I had gotten my own room here, instead of sharing one with Finn, if strictly for nights like tonight, nights where I didn't need questions, I didn't need poking and prodding, and I just needed to cry and spill my soul to my pillow. Or Mercedes. Possible both.

I climbed the stairs with as much silence as I could muster under the protest of my legs and backside, avoiding the creaks here and there, and made my way to me new room. The light of the half moon was trickling in through the windows, and my desk lamp was on. Finn must have been in here looking for something of his. He was always losing things, and for some reason, he thought my room was hoarding them.

I sighed a shaky breath and sat down on my bed, wincing a little bit. Pulling out my phone, I scrolled down to "Sassy Mercedes" and blindly clicked. I was formulating how to write this novel of a text in a way that she wouldn't take pity on me. Not that she would, my queen had always had a way of keeping things real. I also prepared myself for a silent night, it was after 2 in the morning, and Mercedes probably wouldn't text me back until her alarm had alerted her that she should wake. But I started writing anyway.

_Mercedes,_

_I think I've made a terrible mistake. Ever since I've come back to McKinley, Blaine has been wanting to see me more, which I suppose is understandable, even desirable. I mean, he's supposed to want to spend time with me, I am his boyfriend. He invited me over, so tonight, I went over to his house. Please don't think less of him for this, but one thing just lead to another, and well, I'm hoping you know what I'm telling, because I really don't want to spell it out. It was incredibly embarrassing and awkward, even painful, though I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who felt that way._

_You don't need to worry, it was consensual, I… I just wasn't ready, I guess. I wanted to be, I wanted it to be magical and special and lovely, like all the fairy-tales and whatnot, but for me, it was uncomfortable and even frightening. I don't know how I'll face him now. What if he expects me to do…that again? What if he gets mad if I wont? _

_In a sad attempt to salvage anything that _could_ be salvaged from that situation, I told him I loved him afterwards. For the first time, ever, I told someone I loved them. I wasn't ready for that either, I just blurted it out. I was shaking, waiting for his reply, and all he said was 'Oh, that's sweet'. Don't go all mama bear, hon, I'm sure he didn't mean it the way I felt it, but I just couldn't stay there after. I'm home now, in my own bed. I still can't stop crying. I feel pathetic. I just can't have a happy, normal, loving, romance, can I? Maybe there is something wrong with me after all. _

_I hope to hear from you soon. We should go shopping. We should laugh._

_-Kurt._

I hit send, and lay down, expecting not to get a text from the rest of the night. The darkness of my room enveloped me, as I tried to fall asleep. It was no surprise when I couldn't.

Sam's POV

I was staying up reading comic books. Not the coolest pastime on a Saturday night, but I really couldn't care. I liked the stories. Why wouldn't I spend time reading them? The colours were dull because my light was dying, and, well, the books were pretty old anyway. And well read. They were probably the only things I could stand reading.

My phone buzzed and interrupted me. I sighed, if it was from a drunk Santana again, I swear I'd throw my phone out my window. Usually drunk texts from Santana were either sexts (really lame ones at that), or confessions (usually about Brittany), which I would ignore because if she wasn't ready to tell me sober, I wouldn't press.

It was pretty late, even for her. She was usually passed out around now, but I figured I'd look anyway. She might need a ride, and I don't want anyone getting killed by driving drunk.

The name my screen read wasn't Santana though. I was confused. I'd gotten maybe four texts from this number in my life, and none recently.

"Kurt Hummel" I read out loud. Why would Kurt be texting me at, I glanced at the clock, 3 in the morning?

I flipped my phone open and opened the text. It started with Mercedes' name, so I figured he'd just miss-dialed or something. I was going to send him a 'Try again' message, but the first words worried me. I think they would worry anyone.

_I think I've made a terrible mistake._

I kept reading, learning more in three paragraphs than I'd ever expected to know about Kurt Hummel. It was a sad text. Really, it seemed like he was in a dark place. I could relate. But it wasn't my place. This message wasn't meant for me to see. My thumb hovered over the delete button, but then I read one of the lines one more time.

_Maybe there is something wrong with me…_

I sighed, and against better judgment, started to reply.

_Hey Kurt_

_First, I think you got the wrong numder. I wasn't gonna reab this, but u sorta got me worried. Theres nothing wrong with u. Ur just going through a tough time. He probadly didn't mean to hurt u, but u neeb to tell him wat he did wrong. If he doesn't say sorry, I say leave. Cuz that means he did know. But like I saib, he prodably didn't. Im sorry this happened to you… I sorta suk at this comforting thing, but im here if u need me._

_Keep your heab up, and text me if you want to._

_-Sam_

I hit send, and waited for an angry reply, something like "How dare you read my text when you saw it was for someone else!" and whatever. But a few minutes later, I just got a small text back.

_Thank you, Sam. I will._

_-Kurt_


	2. The First Splash Of Numbness

Please, Call Me Lovely

Ch2 The Ice Queen

A/N: Okay, so I'm back. I have decided for time-management on here, I'm going to keep this story up, along with "Bring Me A Unicorn Dress" for those of you who know it, but I will be taking down "A Trifecta Of Verbal Blunders" for a later date, I just have too many stories. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy chapter 2! For the record, I'm assuming Sam's family has an apartment or something now, as this is over the summer and we sort of need Sam to have a house for this to work…so yes. :P

Epic Love

Kermodei

Kurt's POV

It was the next day when the emotional anesthetic kicked in. I was numb. I thought of Blaine, I felt nothing. I thought of what I had done, I felt nothing. I thought of the hours I had spent crying the previous night. Nothing. Tired, perhaps, but no real emotion. Flickers of last night flashed behind my eyelids each time I blinked.

_Oh come on, I want to, don't you?_ The smell of sweat on skin. The feeling of his hair free from gel.

_We've been together forever, most couples have done it by now._ The taste of salt on his lips, the sight of him naked.

_I know you're a virgin, but you trust me, right? It's not that big a deal._ The sound of the condom wrapper opening, his grunts. My sorry attempts to keep from gasping at the pain.

_Of course. Sure, I mean, we've been together for months. Yes, I'll have…sex with you._

I had been talking myself down in my head, explaining over and over how much I loved him and how much this felt right. But darker questions kept invading my thoughts. However, none of that mattered at present. I was a machine, simply getting this body ready for school.

I swung my leg out of bed much too quickly, and that reminded me that, though the mind might not be in a feeling state, the body certainly could. A burning, almost ripping sensation pulled my backside back into bed, me releasing a yelp of surprise and pain as I did so. I took the next step slower. No skinny jeans today.

"_I…I'm in love with you Blaine._" _"Oh, that's sweet."_ I refused to think about it. I pulled on leggings, looking for the skirt, maybe I could afford myself some relief. Then I remembered Blaine's opinion about my Prom kilt. Too out there. Instead, I attempted to slip into a larger pair of skinny-jeans I had left over from my baby-fat days. They were uncomfortable, but not impractically so.

I took the stairs carefully, trying to put as little weight as I could on my thighs and backside. I got to the bottom with less pain than I had expected, and made my way to the kitchen. The clock read quarter to eight, which meant I had to leave. By the looks of the sink, my father was already in the garage, so I grabbed a morning supplement drink and drove to school, with no anger at the red lights or idiots driving, no disappointment to see the front doors already locked, and not even fear when I saw Karofsky coming down the hallway. It seemed strange to me that all these years I had put up that ice mask so nobody could see what I felt. Now I no longer needed it, for I had nothing more to hide. I truly was ice.

Sam's POV

I'm not gonna lie and say I wasn't worried about Kurt. It would be stupid and assholeish of me to say so. I mean, that text, whether I was supposed to see it or not was something to be worried about on it's own. Not to mention what had caused the message to be written in the first time.

So I skipped first period to wait around for Kurt. Not my place, I know. But it was English, and between my dyslexia and state of mind, I really wasn't in the mood.

I heard his car pull up a few minutes after the final bell, and I went towards the parking lot. Kurt entered through the double doors and stared at me.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" He asked. But it was weird. Usually Kurt would have scolded me more, told me about the benefits of learning, showed me the errors of my ways, but today, it just sounded like you didn't care.

"I know, but it's English. Shakespeare. And I wanted to make sure you were okay." Now I started to notice it more. Kurt wasn't skinnier or paler (it'd be hard to have that much of a difference in one day), but he wasn't walking with his shoulders or head up, he'd lost the feeling of confidence he'd put off usually, and there was no passion for…well anything in his eyes anymore. Nevertheless, he responded

"I'm fine, thank you for wondering." I nodded and we walked quietly for a few minutes, down the empty hall to his locker, where we stopped. It was awkward as Kurt stared at me for a few more minutes. I don't know what he was looking for, but he didn't find it.

"You free tomorrow?" He tilted his head, like I had just asked him to sacrifice a camel to Buddha in Na'vi.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't even out of confusion or judgmentally. It was just a habit.

"Do you. Want to. Hang out. Tomorrow?" His eyebrow went down and he seemed to understand what I said.

"And do what, exactly." It wasn't even a question. Did he honestly not even care enough anymore to give a question an inflection?

"I dunno. Hang out, watch a movie? I hear Avatar's pretty good." He didn't even crack a smile, just nodded.

"Sure, I'm free. I'll meet you after school." He turned and walked away from me, and I couldn't do or say anything to stop it. Something was darkly wrong with Kurt, even more than he let on in the text, and, though I don't know when this happened, I had made it my duty to make sure he got better.


End file.
